Mirrored
by WingedFlight
Summary: There are two versions of Lucy Pevensie in Cair Paravel, and it is up to her siblings to decide which is the right one. A drabble fic in five installments. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **This here would be a drabble fic I actually wrote a couple months ago, but I've been away for most of July so unable to post until now. There are fifty drabbles total (it was actually a complete accident that I reached that number - I certainly wasn't aiming for a particular amount) and so I'm posting this in 5 installments. Hope you enjoy! _

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_Mirrored – Part One_

**one.**

The sun rises in a flash of colour and sound, the air fresh from a midnight rain. The scents of the royal garden float tantalizingly through the windows of the Cair. Susan pauses on her way down to the sunroom (and Lucy's birthday brunch) to watch as the fauns begin pegging the great red tent in the castle grounds.

In the distance she can see curling grape vines and a dancing crowd and knows that Bacchus and Silenus draw near to celebrate the youngest queen's fifteenth birthday. There will be a romp tonight, and dancing and singing and laughing as long as the moon shines in the sky.

A satisfied smile rests on Susan's face as she leaves the window. It is so very pleasing when events go as planned.

**two.**

There is only one thing that could rouse Edmund from his bed at such an unearthly hour, and it is the combined threat of his two elder siblings' anger and his youngest sister's disappointment. This triple hit occurs rarely, for which Edmund is most thankful.

Unfortunately, today is one such occasion.

The promising smell of crisp bacon and warm pancakes lead him down through the halls. Edmund yawns and rubs at his eyes and attempts to pull off a kingly facade when passing others - _"Morning people,"_ Edmund thinks in disgust - but he still is not quite awake enough to see where his footsteps lead him.

There is a shout of alarm as Edmund turns the corner to collide with someone - a very dirty, very teary, very _familiar_ someone, and then suddenly Lucy's arms are tight around his waist and she's sobbing and he isn't at all sure why he ever got out of bed.

**three.**

"I - I snuck out for a drink at the tavern," Lucy sobs, "I've done it before, I thought I'd be fine. But someone - someone must have followed me. I was hit from behind - there was no warning - and when I woke -" She breaks off then, overwhelmed. Edmund's arms tighten around her protectively.

Finally, the tears slow once again, and Lucy continues, "When I woke, I was in a - a dark room. I must have been there for ages before-" She stops again and Edmund waits impatiently.

"Before?" he prods when it seems she will not continue.

"Before I escaped," she finishes tightly, and Edmund knows there is much more to it than that, but he also knows Lucy is in no state to explain.

**four.**

Peter is listing off all the reasons he should not be frustrated with Edmund. Top of the list, and most easy to recall, is of course, _Lucy's birthday_. Unfortunately, that is the same reason - or at least, part of the reason - why Peter is frustrated in the first place.

But Aslan help him, he had warned Edmund not to be late. Peter had warned him, Susan had warned him, and even Lucy had very slyly managed to receive a promise from her brother. Edmund knew better than to annoy all three siblings at once.

To Peter's right Lucy is playing with her tea cup, not yet appearing too concerned. Peter forces himself to calm down. It could be his brother ran into an unavoidable delay on the way to the sun room, after all.

And then Edmund enters the room with his youngest sister and Peter rises to his feet so fast his chair topples to the ground behind him.

**five.**

There is one minute of absolute silence, broken only by the clatter of Peter's chair as it falls to the floor. No one can speak. Susan is staring at Peter who stares at Edmund who stares at Lucy who stares at Lucy. Lucy stares back at Lucy. Susan sees her sister (sisters?) and blanches. Edmund and Peter both at the same moment reach for their swords. Both Lucy-at-the-table and Lucy-in-the-doorway are shaking, lips moving silently, mouthing over and over_, "Aslan, Aslan"._

**six.**

The mist gathers slowly at first, much less noticeable than the ice that creeps its way up the windows. The cold, too, is easier to notice, freezing each person's breath the moment it passes through their lips. But as the fog begins to billow upwards in a high column, the Kings and Queens see it and stumble away.

The mist-column forms a shape, becoming a tall woman with slender waist and pointed face and long hair, and Edmund's breath is expelled in a large, white cloud.

"Jadis," Peter growls and steps forward, but the woman raises a hand.

"Not her," she says, and the voice is, indeed, different. "Just one of her many pupils. You may call me the Ice Witch."

**seven.**

"You are faced with a test," the mist-woman declares. "Before you stand two copies of the same girl. Each are identical in words and memories. One is the impostor; the other, your Valiant Queen. Choose wisely, my sovereigns."

With a shout, Peter leaps across the room, drawing his sword to slash at the woman. The mist swells at the disturbance and sinks to the floor. Peter is left panting and facing an empty wall.

The voice echoes about the room, cold and mocking, "Do you really believe it to be so simple, my king?"

**eight.**

One Lucy is pristine in her birthday gown with her golden hair in ringlets; the other's face is bruised beneath the smudges of dirt, her hair tangled and filthy, her dress ripped. Clean-Lucy stands white-faced at the table, holding on for support; dirty-Lucy sags against the doorframe, her cheeks ashen.

"Lucy," Susan begins, and in unison both girls chorus, "Yes?" They glance at each other in shock and quickly avert their eyes.

**nine.**

Edmund knows he cannot allow an impostor to wander the castle, not if the witch is in control. He also knows neither Peter nor Susan would ever give the order that is needed.

His heart is pounding in his ears, but he ignores it. Now is not a time for feelings; now is a time for protecting his family. Edmund coughs once to clear his throat and calls hoarsely, "Guards!"

They enter the room in an instant and tense at the sight that awaits them. Edmund closes his eyes to gather his strength and orders, "Lock them up."

The guards don't move, and he says it again, louder, "Lock them up!"

The identical girls look so very brave as they are ushered from the room, and he hates himself for doing what must be done.

**ten.**

Lucy has been to the dungeons before, but never as a prisoner. It is strange how menacing the cells are from the inside. She is trying not to think about what had happened, but it is hard when she stares across the hallway to the cell opposite and sees herself - a mirror copy in expression, looks, and posture... Lucy hastily uncrosses her ankles.

It is terribly frightening to think that _she_ may be the impostor, unable to remember a single detail of her former life. Her hands look so familiar, but do they belong to her or someone else?

She glances up again at the other-Lucy, and sees that the girl has also uncrossed her ankles. A jolt of shock runs through her, and Lucy crosses hers again quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: There is absolutely nothing I could say to apologize enough for how very, very, very late this update is. I'm so, so sorry. The reasons for it involve broken computers and new laptops, but it's a long story and doesn't really make up for the fact that I didn't get this up sooner. _**

_That being said, I hope you still read and enjoy!

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_Mirrored – Part Two_

**eleven.**

_"To the good peoples of Narnia,_

"_We bring grave news. A terrible plight has befallen our youngest sister, the Valiant Queen. For this reason, the grand celebration has been postponed. We ask for your prayers in this troubling time."_

**twelve.**

Edmund is frowning out the window when Peter enters the siblings' private study. There is silence for a moment - what is there to be said? - and then Susan slips through the other door and stops short at the sight of them both.

"This is no time for moping," she snaps, before rubbing her palms on her skirt in distress. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Neither of her brothers respond to her tone.

"What are we going to do?" she asks in a softer tone, as if to make up for her short temper.

"Question them," Edmund replies in a dead voice. "What else can we do?"

**thirteen.**

"Tell me about Spare Oom."

"Spare Oom - you mean England? There - there was a war, I think, with terrible things that fell from the sky and fires and bright lights, and we would hide in a dark cellar for hours. And Mother was there, but Father - he was somewhere else - fighting, I think."

**fourteen**.

"Tell me about Spare Oom."

"Spare Oom - England, you mean? There was Mother and Father, only Father was – he was away, fighting in a war. And sometimes at night there would be a loud wailing sound – it meant to hide in a dark room for hours. And terrible things would fall from the sky and the city would burn, sometimes."

**fifteen.**

The light is on in Edmund's study as Susan passes by, and she pushes the door open to peer at her brother. Edmund is bent over his desk, quill scritch-scratching on the parchment, eyes flickering between all the pages scattered around him.

Susan watches in silence as he dips the quill in the inkpot and scribbles down another note, before setting the feather down. "Is there something you need?' he asks wearily, raising eyes to the door.

Of course nothing can get past her younger brother, and certainly not her presence, no matter how quiet she tries to be. "You need to sleep," she tells him, stepping into the room. "You have been questioning and analysing all day."

"I doubt Lucy is sleeping," he replies stubbornly.

Susan presses her lips together and nears the desk to see all his notes that transcribe and compare every answer he has received from the two girls. "If you don't sleep, you will be too tired to see what is right in front of your eyes. What help would that be to Lucy?"

It takes only a minute for Edmund to nod his head in quiet compliance.

**sixteen.**

Out in the courtyard stands the great, white tent, empty of any festivities. Stacks of dry wood for the bonfire lay undisturbed, collecting dew. There are no celebrations this night, no gatherings of laughter and dancing and bright lights. In the city, lights are dim and pubs of full of morose drinkers. Dryads hug close to their trees; animals are afraid to leave their dens. A lonely wolf howls a prayer for the youngest queen's well-being to the large, round moon.

**seventeen.**

The night is long and Lucy is restless. For hours she tosses and turns on the small, flat cot of the cell and listens as the other-Lucy does the same. A thin rectangle of moonlight rests on the floor, and the glow of the torch in the hall seeps into the cell, but the light holds no comfort.

When sleep comes at last, Lucy dreams of soft eyes and a woman's gentle lullaby.

**eighteen.**

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Edmund wakes bleary-eyed and irritated at the insistent pounding on his door. It is morning, only just after dawn, judging by the angle of light that slipped through the gap in his curtains. Edmund hates any gap in his curtains, and spares a moment to think dirty thoughts about curtain-gaps and incessant-knockers and, of course, _morning people._

The knocking stops just as Edmund lifts his head from the pillow, and he gratefully sinks down again. _Sleep - glorious, wonderful sleep..._

"Edmund Pevensie! To think you questioned Lucy all of yesterday and never even thought she might like to wash up after her harrowing ordeal of being kidnapped and kept in a cellar!"

He blinks up in shock at his furious elder sister – when did she enter his room? - and wishes harder than ever for blissful, slumbering ignorance.

**nineteen.**

"I've had a thought," Peter announces as he enters Edmund's study.

Edmund does not bother to look up from the parchment. "What a surprise," he replies grouchily.

Peter glares at his younger brother, but the Just King pays no heed. When it becomes clear Edmund is not about to stop his work, Peter continues, "Lucy has the strongest faith in Aslan out of anyone I know. Have you questioned her about that?"

Edmund's quill pauses. "And how would we do that?"

**twenty.**

Lucy does not like dresses, and neither does she like to stay indoors for long. Now she is trapped in both and it is quickly becoming unbearable. She wishes to run and shout and play and all she can do is sit in a cell and avoid looking at her other-self.

She often used to wonder what it would be like to talk to herself; now, Lucy doesn't know what she would say.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: _**_ Would you look at that! The next chapter is up in less than a month. Go me! (This should not be such a big thing)

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_Mirrored – Part Three_

**twenty-one. **

It is Peter who is waiting when a newly-washed Lucy is escorted into Edmund's study. He says nothing as she is seated, and only motions for the guard to leave the room. Even then, there is silence as he studies his youngest sister's face.

It is the girl who breaks the silence in the end. "Peter - are you-?"

"Edmund's exhausted; it's my turn now. Aslan help me – if Aslan's with us at all."

Her eyes flicker and Peter's heart jumps at the sight of momentary indecision. But then, in a strong voice, Lucy tells him, "Maybe it's a test. Or maybe there's another reason for it. Surely if we trust in him everything will turn out fine."

**twenty-two. **

For the second time, a Lucy is escorted into Edmund's study. For a second time, it is Peter who waits in silence.

"Peter? Is something-?"

There is a pause, a heavy sigh, and Peter speaks. "Edmund's exhausted; it's time for me to have a go. Aslan help me – if Aslan's with us at all."

Her eyes flicker just as the previous Lucy's had, and Peter's heart sinks as she lifts her chin to answer, "There must be a reason. Maybe he's testing us. All we have to do is trust in him."

**twenty-three. **

"And they gave the same answer?" Edmund asks again.

Peter nods glumly and buries his head in his hands. "Nearly word for word. The same flicker of doubt in their eyes before they spoke, too."

"Eerie, isn't it?"

Peter nods again. "Oh, Aslan," he moans, "what now?"

"Back to analysing," Edmund replies, although he grimaces at the thought. "Maybe if I can see the bigger picture it will make more sense."

**twenty-four. **

It is Susan who next steps into Edmund's study to voice a suggestion. He sighs once and sets down his quill, but really he is glad of the interruption.

"Lucy's cordial," Susan begins efficiently. "Who has it?"

"At the moment, I do," Edmund replies, and opens a drawer in his desk. "Why?"

"Has anyone other than our family ever administered the cordial?"

Edmund pauses in thought. "I don't believe so."

"Then there is a chance it might not work for the impostor."

**twenty-five. **

The test has to be fair. Edmund claims it will only work right if the cordial is to heal the same wound on the same person. Peter says it will have to be two similar people, as the after effects of the first cordial dose could affect the second wound. Susan calls them both idiots; she isn't about to let either of them slice their hands open in the name of a test. Edmund asks what she would propose. Susan tells them to send some soldiers down by the taverns to find a pair of beat up blokes. Edmund and Peter are forced to agree that her suggestion would probably work best.

The soldiers are summoned and given their orders.

**twenty-six. **

Marcien is bleeding. It is hard to register this fact, seeing as he is also out of his mind drunk, but the pain is beginning to cut through the haze and his white shirt is staining red. He pats his side rather vaguely and the pain increases. Yes, certainly a wound.

Only a few steps away, leaning heavily against the tavern door and sporting a few of his own nasty-looking wounds, is the man whom Marcien is fairly sure he had been fighting a few minutes before. He isn't completely certain though; his head feels incredibly fuzzy.

A shadowy figure looms over him, and Marcien squints to make out any features. It doesn't work. "'Allo," he tries instead, but the word comes out rather garbled.

"His Royal Highness the High King requests your presence at the Cair Paravel immediately," the shadow announces.

Marcien blinks in disbelief.

**twenty-seven. **

When Lucy and the other-Lucy are escorted in, there are two bruised and half-drunk satyrs waiting in the room. Lucy's heart leaps in sympathy at their obvious disorientation, but she restrains herself, biting her lip nervously as she views the poor creatures. One has a knife wound on his side; the other, a large cut on his leg. Neither wounds appear life-threatening, but they do look quite painful.

She has no idea what purpose the satyrs might serve until Edmund pulls her beloved cordial from his tunic's pocket.

**twenty-eight. **

One drop of the red cordial is like a taste of Aslan's Country itself. Marcien closes his eyes and feels the bittersweet drop burn through him, filling even the very tip of his fingers with life. He feels wonderful, amazing; he feels alive. Suddenly, he cannot remember what had ever been so attractive about the hard liquor of the taverns he had craved each night.

When he opens his eyes again, it is no surprise to see that the wound on his side has been healed.

**twenty-nine. **

"Susan."

"Yes?"

"Both the satyrs were healed."

"I know. I can see that."

"The cordial worked for both girls."

"Yes, I know."

"Your plan didn't succeed."

"_I know_, Edmund. Now what?"

"Continue what I've been doing, I guess."

**thirty. **

"It reminds me," Lucy sighs, "of that story from Spare Oom - the one about the king and the two women fighting over the baby."

Other-Lucy looks up in confusion, and Lucy suppresses the thought that maybe she doesn't remember (and what that might mean) and carries on, "And the king said the baby would be cut in half, and one half given to each woman. One woman said to go ahead, but the other said she would rather give up the child than have him killed. Then the king knew to give the second woman the child, because only the real mother would care so."

Other-Lucy smiles tightly at that. "They can't exactly accomplish much by cutting us in half," she points out.

"It was just a story," Lucy murmurs, and looks down at her hands.

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_Hope you're enjoying this so far! Two more parts to go. In the meantime, over on my livejournal account I've been posting some meme-gifts for people, including a word-sketch of a ModernNarnia story, and a one-shot set in my SCAUverse timeline. One more of them to come, as well, so keep a lookout for that. _

_Adios!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Mirrored – Part Four_

**thirty-one. **

Susan cannot sleep. In a useless attempt to still her thoughts, she paces the gardens. As she passes her nocturnal subjects in silence, the stars wink down at her in sympathy.

Peter cannot sleep. He sits in the dark of his room with his sword on his lap and traces the lion's head with his fingers. A wordless prayer lifts to the heavens.

Lucy cannot sleep. She lies curled on her cot and stares up at the barred slit window with an ache in her soul. A single tear is caught in her lashes.

Edmund cannot sleep, not by fate but by choice. A candle burns low on the desk beside him as he bends over the parchment. His eyelids droop, but he fights the feeling until his tousled head collapses on the desk.

The candle flickers and goes out.

**thirty-two. **

Edmund wakes with the idea sitting in the front of his mind, so clear he can almost see the words in the air before him.

"By the lion," he breathes, and sits up. The back of his neck is sore from a night slumped over his desk, but he barely notices. In swift movements a quill is dipped in the inkpot and a blank parchment is chosen. Words are scribbled in seemingly random sequences.

When at last Edmund sits back to rub his neck thoughtfully, his eyes are again shining with hope.

**thirty-three. **

"Summon them both."

Susan looks up at the burning energy in Edmund's voice and knows better than to question him.

"Summon them both."

The messenger takes off at a run down the hallway, his paws making no sound on the soft rugs.

"Summon them both."

The guards open the cell doors and the two girls are startled awake from their uneasy slumbers.

"Summon them both."

The girls are led to the throne room, where the three sovereigns are waiting. The Just King lifts his chin as the guards step back. His voice echoes in the near-empty hall.

"Let the judgement begin."

**thirty-four. **

"Based on the answers received from questioning, either of the girls could be the true Valiant Queen. Both show knowledge of our world and Spare Oom, as well as details of Lucy's life. The second test, faith in Aslan, had the same results. Both girls were able to use the cordial to heal non-fatal wounds. For all intents and purposes, either of these two girls could be the Valiant Queen."

**thirty-five. **

Lucy shifts weight anxiously as she listens to Edmund's words. It is just as she feared - there is no way to differentiate the two of them. In her mind's eye she sees again the woman of her dream rocking her to sleep. _Aslan_, she prays, and gathers her (another's?) courage.

"It's me," she announces miserably. "I'm the impostor. I have to be." She takes a deep breath and blinks away a tear, trying to act as brave as the Valiant Lucy might. "I've been dreaming of my old life. My - my mother."

Silence has frozen everyone in the hall, and Lucy takes another deep breath. She wants to cry and apologize and there will be no one to comfort her because the three sovereigns on the dais _are not_ and _never have been_ her family.

**thirty-six. **

Edmund is staring incredulously at his youngest sister and the impostor. His mind is racing, racing to bring forward all the necessary information and compare it to what he already knows - he is sick of analysing, so sick of it, but this - this is so very important. Each word, each meaning has formed a picture and this - this is the last piece of the puzzle.

When he clears his throat again, he has to work to suppress the smirk of triumph. "I had thought I knew who the impostor was," he says, "But this certainly confirms it."

**thirty-seven. **

"If I may continue..."

No one says anything, and Edmund takes this as the affirmative. "There was one difference between the two girls that was immediately identifiable, and yet none of us gave it much thought. One Lucy had, as far as we knew, been with us all along. The other had gone through a harrowing kidnapping and escape. Now, one could argue that this does not prove anything. The impostor could have believed herself kidnapped, while Lucy was really here the entire time. Or it could have been the opposite."

**thirty-eight. **

Peter, while familiar with his brother's need to give a long and drawn out explanation before coming to any point, is growing impatient. His youngest sister is identified, the impostor is exposed, and still Edmund has to talk?

"If you would reach your conclusion, brother...?"

**thirty-nine. **

"We were forgetting to think of the bigger picture. Why would anyone want to make us choose between two copies of the same girl? It doesn't make sense. There is a fifty-fifty chance that we choose right, and then what? On the other hand, it makes more sense for Lucy to be kidnapped and a double placed in Cair Paravel so no one would notice her absence."

Again, there is silence, before Lucy looks up into Edmund's eyes and asks in a voice shaking with hope, "So I'm not the impostor after all?"

Edmund shakes his head. "You are the Valiant Queen. Your dream confirms it - the witch would not allow her double to dream of a former life. You are dreaming of Spare Oom."

**forty. **

Lucy hesitates only long enough to think through what Edmund has said before the full realization hits her. _Not the impostor. Not the impostor._ With a choked cry she runs forward, up the steps of the dais, and into Susan's arms. Peter is close and she moves to him. Then it is Edmund's turn.

He holds her tight, the look of success nearly lost in the intense relief he has allowed to slip onto his face. "Thank you, Edmund," she breathes. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **Sorry, I know I had said I would try to get the last chapter up quickly, but that didn't really happen. At least it wasn't a wait of several months again. Hope you enjoy!

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_Mirrored – Part Five_

_-x-_

**forty-one. **

She stands in the center of the hall, forgotten for the moment by the kings and queens. It is with envy that she watches them embrace, envy and hate that well up inside her. These are emotions Lucy Pevensie has never tasted, but they fill _her_ up and give her energy.

In the corners of the room, mist begins to form.

**forty-two. **

When the embraces have stopped and Lucy stands once more in her rightful place before her throne, Edmund turns again to the girl waiting before them.

"I am sorry," he says, "I am so very sorry for what the witch has done to you. You have my promise that we will try everything to break the magic upon you and restore your former identity. Aslan bless these efforts-"

"Aslan!" the girl spits, an expression coming to her face that is so very different from any they have ever seen on Lucy's face. "Aslan! You think he will help you, when he abandoned your sister? You fools!"

**forty-three. **

The impostor throws her hands up overhead and screams, her voice so high the Pevensies grit their teeth and cover their ears. When she stops, barely out of breath, her body begins to change. She is stretching, becoming taller than even Peter. Her face is changing too, becoming sharper and paler; her hair is bleached white.

"Fools!" she shouts again. "That you would believe me to be a poor, innocent victim!"

The voice makes it clear, even if the eyes do not - this is the Ice Witch.

**forty-four. **

Peter has his sword out in the blink of an eye; Edmund is barely a second slower. At the doors, the guards are bristling, preparing for a fight. Susan is reaching for the dagger on her hip; Lucy does the same, before she remembers that her belt is empty. To compensate, she curls her hands in fists.

"What do you want?" Peter growls. "What have you against us?"

"You killed my queen," the witch declares.

**forty-five. **

A loud crack reverberates across the hall and Peter leaps to the side just as a sheet of ice breaks off from the ceiling to shatter against the floor. A flying shard cuts Susan's hand and she hisses in pain.

Then Peter charges the witch and the battle begins.

Conjured ice flies through the air. Peter and Edmund are hard-pressed to avoid them, halting and sometimes being set back by the intensity of the attack. A thick wall of ice grows from the floor to trap the guards by the wall. Susan's fingers are twitching and clearly she is wishing for her bow, but it would do little good in any case because her brothers are in the way of a clear shot.

Lucy winces as Peter is thrown back a step by a heavy lump of ice. The witch is cackling, and the air grows colder still.

**forty-six. **

It happens in a split second. One moment, Peter and Edmund are fighting the witch, dodging her ice. The next, Edmund is knocked off his feet and into Peter. The floor is slippery from the ice debris and neither king can keep his balance.

Both are defenceless on the ground. The witch cackles and lifts her hand. Lucy shouts her brothers' names and runs down the steps of the dais.

"Lucy, down!"

She does not stop to question her sister's words; just drops to the floor. Something zips overhead and Lucy looks up to see her sister's dagger blossoming from the witch's chest.

**forty-seven. **

It had never before occurred to her that she might fail. Since the moment she had begun to plan the kidnapping, all through the years as she gathered her knowledge, on the day she began the charm to see into the youngest queen's mind - and that had been so very long ago, as it took so very long for the charm to ripen - she had been certain of success. It was senseless to think otherwise; how would the kidnapping be discovered if the Valiant Queen still celebrated her birthday at Cair Paravel? Even when the girl escaped, it was easy to place doubt in the sovereigns' minds by playing the double.

But now the pain is seeping through her chest and the ice within her blood is melting. She spares a moment of hatred and regret - surely there was some way she could have, should have won - before her mind blurs.

The Ice Witch falls.

**forty-eight. **

It feels like the first breath of spring. The mist is already gone, the ice becoming scattered puddles across the floor. Edmund has climbed to his feet and is helping Peter to his. Susan is running down the steps of the dais. Lucy uncurls her body and looks around the room with new eyes.

**forty-nine. **

"I must admit, I certainly did not anticipate that turn of events."

"Because you generally anticipate everything."

"Well - yes."

"Edmund!"

**fifty. **

Susan and Peter had wanted to wait until they had had a night to recover. Lucy had pleaded that it was her birthday celebration, and she was already three days late. Edmund had pointed out that there was still half a day left and nothing better to do.

Now it is night and the bonfires roar and the music plays. There is dancing and singing and shouting. Bacchus is there, vines heavy with grapes curling around him and across the lawn. Lucy squeals with pure joy from the center of a fauns' dance as her partner whirls her about.

Unnoticed in the shadows of the forest, the Lion smiles and moves on.


End file.
